


January 1984

by Dalyankiz81



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Initial feelings of betrayal, London, M/M, New Friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalyankiz81/pseuds/Dalyankiz81
Summary: What could have happened after the events of that fateful phone call...
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 30
Kudos: 60





	January 1984

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Just a short and sweet reimagining of Elio and Oliver’s story which popped into my head whilst ironing (!!)  
> Taking place in the New Year after Oliver’s phone call.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

Elio stepped off the plane at Linate. A dark, miserable sky and drizzle greeted him but, considering where he had just arrived from, it wasn’t all that different to what he’d been used to for the last three weeks and not at all surprising for January.

  
It hadn’t been entirely his plan to go spend some time with his cousin in England. His father and mother had presented the possibility just before Christmas.  
They’d seen what he had been reduced to since the phone call - vacant, hardly said a word and teetering on the brink of non-existence almost. He’d speak only when spoken to and stayed mostly in his room, and they’d been desperately worried for him.  
They thought he could do with some distance - any distance away from the place he’d opened his giving heart fully to someone for the first time and then had it shattered by that same individual.  
Not that they would ever hold it against Oliver, he never meant to hurt their son.  
They tried to tell Elio this on several occasions but he didn’t want to hear it. His heart was broken and he needed to grieve. And his parents’ constant fawning over the man he held responsible was the last thing he needed.  
So the subject was broached, a flight booked and preparations made.

He delved into the back pocket of his jeans, initially to check that he’d put his passport there so it was close to hand rather than having to rifle through his backpack at Customs.  
His fingers brushed against the piece of paper and he carefully pulled out the slightly crumpled note adorning the telephone number and it’s owner:

_JAMES_

He’d met James whilst taking a walk through Richmond Park on a rare afternoon where, despite the biting windchill, it was pleasant enough to be outside. Enjoyable even.  
He’d taken a pew on one of the benches for a few minutes to rest and James had come to join him despite there being several other empty seats around. He didn’t mind though. It was nice to feel wanted in some small way.

The man had spoken first. He was 22 and a performing arts student. All he’d ever wanted to do apparently, in his whole short life.  
When Elio countered by telling him that he was in the arts himself - well that he was expected to become a teacher of piano eventually - the man’s smile grew wider and Elio began to notice how handsome the friendly stranger was.

  
“Hey you’re American” he’d said with delight and surprise.

  
Well actually he was American, Elio explained, but also Italian, French, a kind of atypical combination... before realising he’d said almost exactly the same words to Oliver last summer.

The pair had chatted for at least an hour before the late afternoon dusk crept upon them.  
James had asked if Elio if he wanted to join him for a drink later on - an invitation which Elio accepted immediately.  
Despite having zero interest in starting anything deep with anyone - no one would compare to Oliver anyway so it was a pointless endeavour - he knew he needed to heal his wounded soul sooner or later and making new friends, he concluded, was a good place to start.

They talked over pints of beer and whisky chasers that night, really talked.  
James had not long split from his boyfriend of two years. Apparently it had been said boyfriend who’d instigated calling it a day but, having indulged in a short period of self-pity and comfort eating after the initial break up, James had agreed that it probably was the best decision after all. And as a result he was still on relatively friendly terms with Rhys so it was all good.

Elio was admiring of the two men’s confidence. Talking to James it seemed that they'd been an openly gay couple with nothing but acceptance from everyone around. Perhaps things were changing for the better.  
He wondered if he and Oliver would ever have a friendship like theirs in the future, obviously he was nowhere near the point where he could entertain that idea right now.

He’d ended up confiding in James everything that happened last summer.  
How he’d initially been overwhelmed and intimidated by Oliver’s presence despite being in awe of him. About the day he’d confessed his feelings to him and their first kiss. The first time they’d slept together and how conflicted he’d felt the morning after. And how his fragile heart had shattered when Oliver told him he was marrying his on-off girlfriend and wouldn’t be returning to Italy for him.

He didn’t realise how solemn he must have sounded until he’d felt a hand across the table take his into it and squeeze. It felt nice and Elio had reciprocated the connection. He knew that he wasn’t into James in any way deeper than pure friendship but it’d given him a warm feeling of safety and compassion.

Hence why they’d decided to trade numbers and stay in touch. The thoughtfulness of his new friend never faltering as he even accompanied him to the airport that morning. They’d shared a taxi, and then a warm, loving embrace before continuing on their separate ways.

Having cleared customs and collected his hold bag Elio approached the doors of the arrival gate. He knew papa and maman were coming for him and he couldn’t wait to see them.  
He’d spent the best part of two months not engaging fully with them and answering their attempts to talk with one-word answers but they were still always there.  
Not having them around for three weeks made him realise how much he missed them.

He spotted them the minute he walked through the doors - his parents and another individual standing with them.

Elio chided himself instantly for letting his stupid mind play tricks on him and continued to walk towards his parents opening his arms wide to envelope both into a crushing display of love and appreciation. The hug he should have given them long before now.  
After a few seconds when he opened his eyes the presence was still beside them wearing a genuine smile, a glowing look in his eyes.

Elio’s heart thumped wildly in his chest and threatened to leap out through his mouth.  
It wasn’t an apparition.

_What the actual fuck was happening?_

It was a miracle Elio was able to make any utterance at all as his mouth had dried up in an instant.

  
“Oliver?” he croaked. “What are you doing here?”.

The man just smiled even wider.

“Hi Elio” he simply said.

Then as an afterthought “Good to see you”.

Elio had no clue what was expected of him. His brain was absolutely drowning in options, conflicts.

If he did the thing that he really wanted to, they’d be escorted from the premises immediately for gross public indecency.  
Not to mention that he’d never be able to look his parents in the eye again.

Part of him wanted to ask Oliver what the fuck he was doing playing happy families with his folks to give Elio some kind of grandeur homecoming. Oh and whilst they’re on it how he thinks he’s got the fucking God given right to even be on the same continent after the way he treated him.

Instead he released his mom and dad from his embrace and wrapped his arms loosely around Oliver in a cursory hug. There was no emotion or feeling in it at all, it merely being a means of not making an unbearable situation even more unbearable.

He looked back at his parents, the look on their faces a combination of empathy, concern and guilt. He just nodded to them and said nothing. He would surely be bringing this up with them without a doubt but it wasn’t for here. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight right now. He just strode through the middle of them carrying his bags and headed for the exit.  
They’d follow. 

On the ride back to the villa, he realised they’d at least had the decency to plan seating arrangements accordingly - Oliver in the front with Samuel and his mom in the back with him. He silently thanked them for this small mercy.

When Annella finally broke the excruciating silence by asking him about his trip Elio realised with a sense of triumph that this could be his path towards making Oliver feel as shit as he deserved.  
And he decided that he was going to grab on and run with it big time.

“It was one of the best decisions for me maman. I had such a wonderful time”.

  
He hesitated for a second then continued his verbal assault directed at the man sat up front.

He faked his best coy look.

“I actually met someone too”.

  
He glanced into the rear view mirror to try get a glimpse of Oliver but could only see his father, an unreadable expression on his face. He chanced an actual look at Oliver but the man was just looking straight ahead and giving him nothing.  
However Elio wasn’t done yet.

“James is a student of performing arts and we had a great time together... We’ve swapped numbers, hope that’s ok with you guys”, deliberately aiming the last part at his parents.

  
Annella just ran a hand through his hair as she had done when she’d collected him from Clusone last year.

  
“Of course Piccino, as long as you’re happy I’m happy”

  
Elio let himself fall into her comforting embrace as she wrapped an arm around him to pull him in closer to her side. There was something serene about being in his mother’s arms, it was a safe place. He could feign tiredness for the rest of the trip and avoid talking to Oliver completely.

  
As it was he did indulge in slumber for the rest of the journey back, he found when they pulled up to the villa.

Home sweet home, he thought.

_And Oliver is here too once again. Holy shit..._

After spending an hour or so in his room unpacking, he decided to rest for a while until dinner. He lie on his bed staring at the ceiling which was giving him no answers to the questions he had.

The most prominent one - what the fuck was Oliver doing back? He hadn’t answered him when he’d asked earlier at arrivals.  
This was irritating to Elio, that Oliver hadn’t felt it necessary to respond to him with respect and courtesy like he deserved. Being the same selfish asshole he’s always been, Elio guessed. He didn’t know how to think of Oliver anymore without bitterness and contempt bubbling up to the surface.

His reverie was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

“Mmm?” he responded.

  
“Elio? It’s Oliver” came the reply from the other side of the door.

  
Elio sat up straight and swung his legs round to the side of the bed.

Was he prepared for this? Absolutely not. But it was happening so not much he could do.

  
“Sure come in, whatever” he offered, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

The door opened and Oliver walked in closing it behind him. He stood by the door as if he was waiting for permission to come closer which amused Elio greatly. He could have mocked Oliver for this which he would have done last year.  
But it seemed a pointless and redundant action now.

He gestured to the other end of his bed.

“You can sit down you know Oliver”

  
The other man smiled and gave a slight nod of the head.

Elio felt his breath hitch in his throat. This guy was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever set eyes on.

But he felt like a stranger.

  
He didn’t sit. He walked over to the shelf and picked up the bronze model of the Westminster Houses Of Parliament and Big Ben Elio had bought in the gift shop at Heathrow.

Oliver studied it, all the tiny details intricately carved out.

“Nice” he complimented as he replaced it on the shelf.

Elio studied his body language

  
“James bought it for me” he lied.

  
Oliver turned to make eye contact with him, seemingly wounded by this revelation.

“Why should you be hurt cos I’ve moved on?” Elio wanted to yell.

“You’re the one who left me remember... You’re getting married in the spring, what have you got to worry about?”

All words unspoken but lingering at the forefront of Elio’s mind.

“Sounds like a good guy” came Oliver’s reply but it was definitely tinged with a hint of regret and resignation.

He took a deep breath as if to speak again but took a pause as if trying to establish whether he should say it.

“I hope you’re happy Elio, that’s all I want”

  
Elio was irritated once again at this. He was being made to feel patronised and belittled and right now he just wanted to give this son of a bitch a taste of his own medicine.  
He faked a look of bliss in his eyes and forced a wide smile. He nodded in confirmation.

“I am really happy Oliver, and I hope you are too”.

Oliver’s gaze dropped to the floor for a few seconds, then he looked back up again to meet eyes with Elio and gave the tiniest hint of a smile. It didn’t look genuine though which gave Elio the reassurance that his acting up must have had the desired effect. 

“Ok well I’ll see you at dinner then”.

Elio had to mentally check himself at these words, his brain could have easily confused the word “dinner” with “midnight” and then he’d have lost all self control and jumped Oliver there and then.  
But things were different now he knew. Oliver wasn’t his anymore. Though was Oliver ever HIS?

He watched the man walk to the door and open it.

“Oliver?” he enquired. A long pause ensued. “Why ARE you back?”

Without turning to look at him, Oliver replied simply:

“Because I had my eyes opened”.

Later on after dinner when Mafalda and Annella started to clean up the dining room Elio decided to go watch some TV in the lounge. He could hear his father and Oliver talking archeology in the study and he had no desire to join in the conversation.

He was still rattled by how his parents could make Oliver so welcome in their home after everything that had happened. And bring him to Linate to meet him which was unforgivable.   
His father especially; recalling the conversation they’d had shortly after he’d returned from Bergamo.  
His father knew everything, his mother maybe not so much. And yet they still accepted him in with open arms like he was one of the family.   
Almost like a son in law, Oliver had said.   
How cruel of him to say that when he’d just given Elio the news that he was getting married to someone else.

He tried in vain to concentrate on what was on the screen.

What had Oliver meant by that earlier? That he’d had his eyes opened. Opened to what exactly?  
He was still getting married so why come back and torture Elio even more, making himself at home in his territory.

He could hear the gentle clink of glasses and decanter coming from the other room.  
That’s right, his dad and his best buddy Oliver were sharing a drink together. Of course.

  
Elio thought of James then.  
Perhaps he had been too quick to dismiss him as a potential partner.  
He could picture it for sure, the man was gorgeous. And interesting. And he’d listened to Elio patiently as he’d spilled his heart and soul out. Held him in his arms when the tears inevitably came. 

He could have done things differently, he realised.

He could have dried his eyes at that point and pulled the man into a passionate clinch right there.  
Ended up spending the night making love to him.

Or kissed him goodbye at the airport with the promise of returning a few months later.  
He would have had something to hold on to at least, rather than nothing. Pure emptiness.

By about eleven Elio’s tiredness caught up with him once again.  
He’d been channel hopping for the last three hours desperately trying to be distracted by something, anything.  
He’d been aware of Oliver passing by the lounge door a few times throughout the evening, hovering even as if to chance entering the room. Each time Elio had fixed his attention on the screen intently, willing Oliver to either take the leap and make conversation or fuck off back to the study. It was torture knowing Oliver was just standing there watching him from afar.  
As it was he’d always opted to return to the study. Which made Elio feel even more shit than before.

On his way to bed he passed by the study himself, the door open only slightly and the voices inside quietened down compared to earlier. Elio hovered for a second even though he felt that he shouldn’t be listening in.  
He was surprised to hear Annella in there too conversing with his father and Oliver. He leant forward further to try gauge what what being said.

“But you don’t need to leave tomorrow tesoro, stay a few more days at least”Annella was pleading to their guest.

_Oliver is leaving?_

He strained to listen.

Oliver’s voice was the one he heard next. It sounded different. Really different. Like a choked whisper almost.

“I have to go anyway to sort things out. We have to cancel everything and talk to our parents... I can’t let Micol do it all by herself”

A pause

“Plus, you know, it’s not fair on Elio me being here so it’s for the best”

_  
Who the fuck is Micol? Cancel what?_

  
He heard Annella get up from armchair she must have been sat in and walk across the wooden floor. He panicked that she was heading for the door and he ducked around the corner quickly.

Instead he heard her voice again in that warm, motherly way that always told him everything was going to be ok, and the rustle of fabric that he assumed to be her hugging Oliver.

“Oh darling” he heard her say. “We’re so sorry that you’re going through all this.  
And we wish that things could be different too.   
We love you and you’re always welcome in our family, whenever you need us we’re here always”.

Then almost as if she was whispering in his ear without being an actual whisper:

“Just give him some time and you never know”

It took a few seconds but the enormity of what he’d heard began to dawn on Elio.  
His brain shut down all ability to hear anything more, it was like someone had shoved blunt objects into both ears and he could only hear a ringing and the inaudible muffles coming from the other side of the door.

He took a step backwards and then another. He didn’t know how to make his body respond in a normal way, floored by what had just happened.  
He found himself at the top of the stairs but he had no idea how he got there. He didn’t know whether this was even real or if he was dreaming.  
Another second or two and he was on the shared balcony at the end of the corridor.

Elio looked up to the night sky, barely a star visible behind the low cloud cover.  
Time passed although he had no sense of it.  
A gentle tap on the glass startled him out of his daze.

“Mind if I join you?”

Elio turned to find Oliver standing in the doorway, looking as beautiful as could be in the bask of the moonlight that had pushed its way through the clouds. He looked anxious too.

“No, feel free” he replied and the man came out to stand beside him, placing his hands on the grab rail, not touching but not too distant from his own.

  
It’s funny how life does it’s thing, Elio thought.  
He had spent weeks and months figuring out what he would say to his ex lover should they ever cross paths again.  
None of it seemed appropriate right now.  
He considered making a joke about not having a joint for them to share but decided against it.  
He wondered whether he should say nothing and just listen to what Oliver had to say.

Silence remained however.

Elio was going to need to make the first move but then, he realised, it’s always been the case with them.

He hesitated before speaking, knowing that what he was going to say would reveal straight up to Oliver that he’d been eavesdropping. But he felt it was a risk worth taking.

“Did she leave you or did you leave her?”

  
Oliver turned to look at him but gave no sign of annoyance or upset that he’d been outed.

He turned back to look at the sky.

“We left each other...

I knew after speaking to you on the phone that I couldn’t go through with it, there was such pain in your voice Elio and it broke me. The only thing I wanted to do was jump on a plane and get myself back here. With you”.

Elio nodded as a gesture for him to continue.

  
“Iwanted to be honest with Micol cos we’ve been friends since kids, she’s one of my best friends...   
I told her about you. Told her I’d fallen completely in love with someone and I’m sorry that it wasn’t her.  
I fully expected her to be mad as hell and I’d end up with a couple of black eyes and my things out on the street.”

His eyes fell to the garden below.

“But she wasn’t?” Elio offered.

“No she wasn’t” confirmed Oliver. “She was, as I suspected, the best confidante I could’ve ever asked for.  
She knew too that we’d been ultimately pushed into making the grand gesture, it was our parents’ ideal and never ours.   
She wants to do her own thing too”

He turned to look at Elio, the first sign of tears creeping into the corners of his eyes.

“She told me to come and find you”

Elio turned back to look at the vast sea of black in front of them, disbelief from what he was hearing slowly turning into a real possibility.

He heard a scoff come from beside him.

“Hmm, a fat load of good that did” Oliver said, almost jovially, then turned serious again.  
“But I still think you deserved to know. That I hadn’t left you and forgotten about us. I still remember everything”.

He was looking at Elio with tenderness.

“Why would you say that, about it doing you no good? replied Elio as he turned to him. He knew what Oliver was getting at but he couldn’t help himself.

He watched the array of emotions play out on Oliver’s face - sincerity, confusion.

“Well because of you and James. You’re happy now, you told me that yourself. I don’t want to be a confusion in your life Elio, really I don’t. So I have to go”.

His words hit Elio in the back of the throat.

  
Elio finally allowed the warmth to spread like fire through his chest. Did Oliver really believe all that? If he thought that he could just move on from him just like that he clearly didn’t know him very well.  
But it wasn’t incredulity that he felt.

He turned to the man beside him and pressed his fingers over his lips to stop him talking any more. As he did he caught sight of the time on his wrist. It was a few minutes to midnight.

_As if it was written in the stars._

He simply took Oliver’s hand and guided him back into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them.


End file.
